“Good Heavens!” said poor Harmony faintly.
“Please don't be alarmed. I have lost the path.” Stewart's voice was almost equally nervous. “Is it to the right or the left?”
It was a moment before Harmony had breath to speak. Then:—
“To the right a dozen paces or so.”
“Thank you. Perhaps I can help you to find it.”
“I know it quite well. Please don't bother.”
The whole situation was so unexpected that only then did it dawn on Stewart that this blacker shadow was a countrywoman speaking God's own language. Together, Harmony a foot or so in advance, they made the path.
“The house is there. Ring hard, the bell is out of order.”
“Are you not coming in?”
“No. I—I do not live here.”